


Ineffable Vignettes

by one_true_houselight



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Dancing, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Queen - Freeform, SO MUCH FLUFF, Teacher!Crowley, nonbinary!Aziraphale, nonbinary!Crowley, vaguely chronological
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-06-25 13:55:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19747111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_true_houselight/pseuds/one_true_houselight
Summary: A number of soft gay stories about an angel and a demon





	1. An Angel and a Demon Dance on the Head of a Pin

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! Welcome! Here are a number of short stories about ineffable husbands! because I can! Enjoy!

Crowley and Aziraphale are in Crowley’s flat after the Ritz, talking. Just talking, talking over the hum of…something. They both knew what it was, on some level, but for now, they talked. It was strange ground they were on now, but they knew how to talk.

“Have you ever been on the head of a pin, Zira?”

“Excuse me?”

“You know…” Crowley gestured aimlessly from where he sat upside down across the room from the angel. “Angels on the heads of pins.”

Aziraphale thought about this for a moment, trying not to be distracted by Crowley’s use of ‘Zira’. “I believe the phrase is angels dancing, Crowley.”

“I thought angels didn’t dance.”

“For the most part, no. But I did learn the Gavotte in-“

“The Gavotte?” Crowley stumbled a bit over seemingly random consonants as he searched for his next words, and Aziraphale felt a warm kind of comfort in the familiarity. “Didn’t that go out of fashion…a while ago?” Crowley didn’t understand the passage of time in any consistent kind of way. 6000 years can do that to an occult entity.

“Yes, well, maybe, but things can come back into fashion.” Crowley smiled as Aziraphale adjusted in his seat, the angel’s particular diction comforting the demon like the rain comforts some humans. “You’ve brought back many a questionable fashion trend in your time.”

“Yes, well, I’m certainly not bringing the bloody _Gavotte_ back anytime soon, and neither is anyone else. So, I guess for the time being, angels don’t dance.”

Aziraphale looked up sharply at that. Crowley could see some kind of determination in his face, and he quickly said, “Zira, I didn’t mean anything by it-“ Before he could continue, Aziraphale stood up and, inexplicably, walked over to Crowley’s CD cabinet. As he tried to find what he was looking for, he felt a little relieved that Crowley couldn’t see him blushing from the renewed use of the nickname.

“You said it yourself, we’re on our own side now.” Aziraphale flicked through CDs, muttering titles to himself. “I might as well learn another dance.” Suddenly, Aziraphale felt Crowley saunter up behind him. He leaned down and peered over Aziraphale’s shoulder, making the angel freeze ever so slightly.

“What are you looking for, angel?” Crowley watched as Aziraphale leaned forward, lightly setting his forehead on a shelf. He quietly reached forward and put a hand on his shoulder. He felt Aziraphale’s muscles relax under his hand.

“I…don’t know, exactly. I just wanted to dance, and I needed music to do that.”

“Well, luckily for you, I have a lot of Queen, and there isn’t better dance music.” Crowley reached over and plucked a CD from the shelf and walked over to the player in the corner, snapping to open it.

“Why do you have so much Queen?”

“Oh, well, you know,” muttered Crowley, flicking furniture from the center of the room. “I kept leaving them in the car.”

“You’d think you’d learn not to do that after a while.”

“You know what?” Crowley opened his mouth to shout ‘Shut Up and Dance’, remembering it vaguely from some store’s radio. But his veins ran cold as he remembered Gabriel saying something like that, and even though Aziraphale hadn’t heard about that, Crowley couldn’t bring himself to even come close to it.

Instead, Crowley snapped again, and the opening notes of Don’t Stop Me Now started playing. He posed and grinned at Aziraphale, whose face was alight and oh hell, he really was beautiful…

“Crowley, what do I do?” Aziraphale walked up to him, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I don’t know the moves.”

“There aren’t moves, Zira. You just move where the song takes you.” Crowley spun around and kept dancing, watching as Aziraphale started stepping awkwardly from side to side. He was on the beat though, which was something.

The music kept playing, and they kept dancing. Aziraphale took his coat off at one point, and Crowley has tossed his sunglasses on a table. Aziraphale was dancing, really dancing now, a wild smile all over his face, and Crowley basked in that. At this point, Bohemian Rhapsody was on. Crowley had some antique vase he was singing into, and Aziraphale had jumped up on the couch, arms raised.

“So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye?,” Crowley belted, leaning forward into the note, and Aziraphale looked over, at the fire and passion in Crowley’s face, and he harmonized with him and nothing had ever felt quite so right.

The song rolled to an end, Crowley had struck a pose on the floor, and Aziraphale had jumped into the air and landed a little unsteadily on the soft cushions. As he threw out his arms to adjust, he became aware of the fact that he was standing on the couch. He quickly clambered down and adjusted his vest. “Um. Sorry. Don’t know what came over me.”

Crowley laughed, a loud, boisterous sound. “We’re having a party, angel! Anything goes!” He winked at Aziraphale, who felt his stomach lurch. “Speaking of which, good harmony in there.” Crowley wandered closer to Aziraphale, but paused. “I-“

And then the CD player started playing a song that Aziraphale didn’t recognize, its melody sounding more classical than classic rock. “What song is this, Crowley?” His voice was soft, trying not to break the _something_ that was in the air.

“The Millionaire Waltz.” Crowley stared at Aziraphale. Silence yawned between them, full of a million unsaid things, and even some said ones. “Um.” Crowley closed his eyes, and Aziraphale took the opportunity to wipe his palms on his pants. He stood still again when Crowley opened his eyes and said, “So, I was thinking. That maybe we could dance.”

“We have been.” But Aziraphale knew that wasn’t what Crowley meant. 

“Yeah, but…you know. But. Someone once told me I go too fast, Zira.” The lights flashed for a moment, and Aziraphale could see himself in that car, on that night, and he had to forcibly drag himself back to see Crowley, here, in the present, staring at him, clearly at a loss for what to do.   
Aziraphale unconsciously took a step towards Crowley. “That has been said, yes. And I think it’s good advice…” Crowley’s shoulders dropped a little until Aziraphale continued, “Sometimes. But. I’ve been thinking.”

“You usually are.”

“And I think I might need to also learn that I, sometimes, maybe…go too slow.” Crowley blinked at him. He seemed frozen, unable to act with this new information. So Aziraphale closed the space between them, the music swelling a little. “Let’s dance, Crowley.” He reached out a hand and held his breath. 

Crowley slowly reached out and took his hand. He carefully adjusted it and put his other hand on Aziraphale’s waist. “You ok if I lead, angel?”

“You’d better, I have no idea what I’m doing.” Crowley looked him dead in the eyes, and Aziraphale quietly added, “At least, I don’t know how to dance. The rest of this…” And Crowley grinned at that, and led Aziraphale’s hand to his shoulder. Once they were set, they slowly started stepping around the room, Aziraphale carefully following Crowley, who was gently pulling him in the direction to go. 

The music picked up in tempo at the bridge, and Crowley spun Aziraphale suddenly, making the angel yelp slightly. When he was back to facing him, Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “Where did you learn to dance, Crowley?”

Crowley led them with bigger steps around the room some more. “A few decades ago, I wanted to infiltrate…something or other, and I needed to go to some big party, so I got dance lessons.” With a light push, he spun out from Aziraphale, and Aziraphale tried to mirror him. 

“You’re good at it, Crowley.” They were back together now, and the music was fading, fading back into the waltz. “Did you get to use these skills often?”

“No, not really.” Crowley glanced at Aziraphale for a second before explaining, “There wasn’t anyone I wanted to ask that I thought would say yes. Until now, I guess.”

Aziraphale stared at Crowley, who was smiling, just a little bit, and then slowly leaned up and kissed him. Crowley’s eyes opened a little in surprise, but he kissed back, his hand sliding to the small of the angel’s back. 

Quietly, in the background, the song played. _My fine friend - take me with you and love me forever…_

Finally they separated and stared at each other, still holding on. Crowley made an indistinct sound at the back of his throat. Aziraphale was only a little more successful, managing to say, “Well,” in a slightly strangled voice. Crowley nodded at that. Instead of speaking, they began moving again, letting the song carry them around the room. 

Finally, Crowley found his voice. “Angel, that was…ineffable.” And Aziraphale, who had been watching their path, snapped his head to look at Crowley, who was grinning wildly. 

“Are you mocking me?”

“No!” Aziraphale narrowed his eyes, his forehead creasing. “Well, maybe a little.” Aziraphale scoffed and clumsily spun Crowley around. 

“Two can play at that game.”

“Well, two can play at this one, too.” And then Crowley leaned down and kissed Aziraphale, and so the night went.


	2. The Color of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley tries out a new hobby with Aziraphale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at these wonderful entities.

They were at Aziraphale’s place this time, and the angel walked to the back to find Crowley squinting at something on his phone. “What’s that?”

“Something I wanted to try.” Aziraphale nodded and continued closing the store down. They had been switching off nights at each other’s places, and Aziraphale had noticed how antsy Crowley was getting. Before, he had at least been able to plan small acts of demonry to occupy his time, but now…

Of course, Aziarphale thought, he didn’t approve of the demonic acts in the _slightest_ , but he did hope that the demon found something else to do. He had walked in to find Crowley rearranging his whole shop alphabetically by the third letter in the title, which had taken him almost thirty minutes to fix. But, as the books flew through the air, rearranging themselves in haphazard piles around the shop, Crowley had sidled up next to him and leaned on his shoulder, muttering apologies, so Aziraphale couldn’t be mad at him, not really. 

He was, however, excited for Crowley to find something a bit more productive, or at least something actually enjoyed, rather than simply doing things for the fleeting feeling of completion. He flipped the sign to closed and wandered back to Crowley ( _he always did that, didn’t he_ ), who set his phone down when Aziraphale walked in. “What did you find, Tony?” 

Crowley raised his eyebrows at that. “Tony?”

“I’m trying to find a nickname for you.” He sighed as he sat down. “But you’re right, that doesn’t feel like you.”

“Aww, Zira.” Crowley winked at the angel. “You’ll get there, it isn’t your fault I’ve been at this for longer.” Aziraphale looked up sharply at that. Crowley raised his hands, quickly reassuring. “Not that it means anything, of course.” His face softened slightly, and he reached over and rubbed Aziraphale’s hand a little. 

“I’ve loved you for...a long time, Crowley. It may have grown and changed through the years. But it didn’t start in that church.”

“I know.” They sat like that for a second, breathing in this new era. It was new, and strange for both of them. But they had each other to help navigate, as they always had, and that was really, at the end of the day, what they needed. 

“Anyway,” Crowley started, sitting up a little and picking up his phone again. “I found some very nice videos online, and I wanted to try something.” He pushed back from the desk a little and waved his hand, making some small, shiny bottle appear on the desk. Aziraphale leaned in a little and realized they were bottles of nail polish. “Figured I could add some color to my look.”  
Aziraphale picked up one of the bottles. It was a deep orange, almost red, and the name was... 

_Hellfire_

“Really, Crowley?” Crowley peered at the bottle and grinned. 

“Very funny, let’s see if…” Crowley scanned the other bottles and started cackling. He tossed one to Aziraphale, who clumsily plucked it from the air. It was a sparkling light blue, and was called _Holy Water_. “Looks like that miracle had a sense of humor.” They examined the other colors, finding a glittering white one called _Pillar of Salt_ , a deep green simply titled _Eden_ , a shiny mahogany bearing the name _Noah’s Ark_. 

“Quite a sense, it seems.” 

Aziraphale huffed and held up a bright red bottle. “This seems a tad blasphemous, don’t you think?” Crowley leaned over and read _Blood of Christ_. 

“Well, to be fair, I’m blasphemous just for existing, so…” Aziraphale rolled his eyes and replaced the bottle. 

“Which color do you want to do first?” Crowley started carefully selecting bottles, pattering as he went. 

“Well, the video I watched talked about mixing two colors with a toothpick-” And just like that, a small cup of toothpicks appeared alongside the bottles, rattling slightly. “And I was thinking of mixing red and...purple?” He picked up the aforementioned blasphemous polish, and then a medium purple called _Lydia_. “Could use some help with the mixing, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.” Crowley nodded and set the bottles down again, starting to unscrew one of them. “Hey, not near the books Crowley!” Crowley looked up, and then looked at the desk he was sitting at, seeming to only register the piles of books across its surface at that moment. 

“Oh. Sorry.” He snapped, and lo, there was a sheet covering the books. He raised an eyebrow at Aziraphale, who nodded approvingly. Crowley proceeded to open the purple and paint each nail. Even though he liked to say he was left handed out in the world as a little in-joke, he could use both hands with equal efficacy; 6000 years to practice had its benefits. Once he finished the coat, he looked up to see Aziraphale watching him. “Are you going to paint yours, angel?”

Aziraphale shook himself a little, seemingly mesmerized by the painting. “You said you would need help, so I wanted to wait.” Crowley squinted at Aziraphale. He suspected he wasn’t giving his full reasons, but Crowley decided not to push. 

“Fair enough. I need your help for the next part, once this coat dries.” Crowley shook his hands and examined them while Aziraphale glanced around to make sure no color had escaped. “There we go. Alright, now we’re going to put this one on-” Crowley picked up the red, and watched a pained expression flit across Aziraphale’s face. “You really hate the name, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do.” Crowley nodded and tapped the top before showing it to Aziraphale. It now read _River of Blood_. Aziraphale smiled a little at Crowley. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Zira.” As Crowley unscrewed it, he quietly said, “He really didn’t deserve all that.” He gently lifted out the small brush and inclined his head towards the toothpicks. “Alright, I’m going to put on a layer of this, and while it’s wet, you’re going to swirl it around, draw some patterns.” Azirapahle picked up a toothpick and nodded. 

They slowly worked through the ten fingers, Crowley carefully layering the red, Aziraphale scratching patterns to reveal the purple below. They talked as they went, not so much about anything, but more to hear the other, to feel together, to wrap themselves in the familiarity of each other’s voices. Though Aziraphale had started out with indistinct swirls and lines, he started getting a little more adventurous: two sets of wings, a halo with one, a pair of horns with another, a flaming sword, a clumsy outline of the Bentley. 

“Having fun, angel?” 

“Very much, so.” Crowley smiled as Aziraphale focused on his current image (a curled snake), and he sighed, very very quietly. Without looking up, Aziraphale asked, “Are you ok, Crowley?”

And Crowley looked at Aziraphale’s bent head, his cloud of bright hair, his focused squint, and said, “More than ok, Zira.”

Soon after that, they finished, and Crowley wiggled his fingers, watching the polish dry. “Very cool. I like it, angel.” He screwed the lid back on the red and turned fully to face Aziraphale. “Your turn!”

“Oh. Yes. Well-” Aziraphale started looking at the bottles, but Crowley could see he wasn’t seeing them, not really. 

“If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.” The demon’s voice was soft, trying to calm the angel. 

“No, I do, I think, I just don’t know what to do.” Crowley could see in Aziraphale’s eyes the worry he’d always seen there. He had understood it on some level, the need to do good, the desire to impress his superiors. But with the past few days, and especially his jaunt up to Heaven, he felt he had peeked beyond the shining curtain and truly understood the love of his immortal life. 

They were both running now. Maybe they always had been. 

“Zira,” started Crowley, taking Aziraphale’s hand and squeezing just a little. “No matter what you do, it will look lovely. Including if you decide to do nothing. It’s ok, I promise.”

He watched as the panic slowly drained from Aziraphale’s eyes. It never truly left, he knew that, just like the vague haunted aura never truly left his own. But Aziraphale was calming down, and for that Crowley was grateful. 

“Promise…” Aziraphale, still holding Crowley’s hand, reached over and grabbed a shimmering bottle. He held it up to the light, and they watched as rainbows danced in the bottle, and over the surrounding room. Crowley took it and read the top. _Promise_. Then he read the label, and sighed. 

“This is meant as a top coat, of sorts. Put it over another color.” Aziraphale nodded thoughtfully. “Do you want any of the colors here?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Would you like me to pull up a-heaven, what is it called?” Aziraphale smiled fondly as Crowly tried out letters in his mouth, hoping he could taste the right answer. “Hexadecimal chart, thing.”

Aziraphale could sense the tinges of sarcasm that so often painted Crowley’s words. “That would be lovely, thank you.” He understood it perfectly, of course, he just simply couldn’t be bothered to let it stop him. 

“Alright.” Crowley grabbed his phone and opened it, typing for a moment before pulling up a page with hundreds of colors, fading from one end of the visible spectrum to the other. “If you want any ethereal colors, you’ll have to just ask me, the phone can’t handle them.”

“No, this is perfect.” Aziraphale took the phone and moved around, eyes flicking from color to color until- “Oooh, this is very nice.” He handed the phone back, and Crowley saw that he’d selected a bright rose gold. “It matches my suit.”

“It does, yeah.” Crowley pointed to the table, where another bottle had appeared. Aziraphale slowly picked it up and read the name. A smile slowly spread across his face, and he silently handed it to Crowley. 

_Ineffable_

“When did miracles become sentient?” He handed the bottle back to Aziraphale, who carefully unscrewed it. “Need help?”

“I’ll try it on my own first.” He started painting, making slow, methodical strokes on the nails. Crowley watched, and would, every once in a while, make suggestions on how best to get even coverage. Once it was done, Aziraphale blew on his fingers, drying the polish. He looked up at Crowley and asked, “The top now?”

“I had a thought. I think I want to put that one over mine as well, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

Crowley picked up the bottle of _Promise_. “So, how about this. You do mine, I’ll do yours.” 

“Sounds like a deal.” Aziraphale giggled at that. A deal with a demon. 

No. A deal with _his_ demon. 

“You first, Crowley.” Crowley obediently put his hands out, and Aziraphle gently took one and started painting it. As he did so, Crowley realized something. 

“Hey, Zira?”

“Hm?” Aziraphale hummed.

“Just so you know...if you do find a nickname for me, that’s fine, of course. But I’m also just fine with you saying my name. It’s nice.” Aziraphale smiled at him, placing the brush inside the bottle for a moment. 

“Crowley,” he said, cupping Crowley’s face in his hand, “It fills me with immense pleasure to have the privilege to say your name.” And they kissed, a quick one, but lovely all the same. When they broke apart, Aziraphale winked. “I am going to keep working on your nickname, though.”

“I expected nothing less.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again!


	3. The Power of And

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale discuss their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for discussion of past abuse/trauma.

Crowley and Aziraphale were sitting in his flat, and Aziraphale was worried about finding Things to Do Together, and Crowley was once again impressed at the way Aziraphale added Capital Letters to spoken word. Many could do that of course, but Aziraphale did it in a way that made it seem like they belonged there, rather than the way some forced them into the sentence, wrenching the other sounds around to make the emphasis fit. 

“You know, we don’t need to have constant plans, angel.”

“Yes, of course. I just want to...help, I guess.” Aziraphale shifted nervously. “Am I around to much, Crowley?”

“Zira, please don’t get me wrong. I love spending time with you. You know that, right?” Aziraphale nodded. “But we can also do our own thing sometimes. Just like we used to before the apocalypse. Well,” muttered Crowley, rolling the syllable around his mouth, “maybe not _just_ like then.”

“Yes, of course.” Crowley noticed that Aziraphale was repeating himself, and he turned a bit to look at him. The angel was staring at his hands, and he was sitting very still. 

“Are you ok?”

Aziraphale stared at his hands for a moment longer before looking right at Crowley, blue eyes flickering with fear. Finally, he whispered, “Well, that’s the issue, isn’t it? It’s different now, and it’s my fault it took this long, and you deserve so much better, and I figured plans would help, if I put in the effort-” Crowley slid over on the couch and hugged Aziraphale, quieting his nervous string of words. 

“It is not your fault. There is no _fault_ here. And if there’s anyone who doesn’t deserve something in this universe, it certainly isn’t you.” 

“But I broke your heart, Crowley. I know I did,” said Aziraphale, watching Crowley open his mouth to respond. “So now, I guess I feel like I have to make up for it.”

“Aziraphale.” Crowley felt the angel shudder a bit as he held him. “It would have broken my heart more if you had felt forced to do something because of me. You’ve had enough of that for three lifetimes.”

“I suppose so.” Aziraphale’s voice was quiet. “I just don’t want to disappoint you. I don’t know what to do, where to go from here. Things have changed, and I’m glad, but…” 

“Zira, please know that you could never disappoint me.” Crowley waited until Aziraphale nodded before saying, “Think of it like this. You’re still my best friend, that hasn’t changed. Just now, you’re my best friend AND we kiss sometimes. So yeah, that’s changed, and there are a lot of unsaid things that are now said, but beyond that? We hang out, and we eat, and we bicker, and then sometimes we cuddle.”

Aziraphale giggled, just a little. “That ‘and’ is important.”

“Exactly, we are a living embodiment of AND. Limitations cower before us!”

“Heaven and hell! Good and evil!”

“Someone once asked if I was a man or a woman and I said ‘Yes, and!’”

Aziraphale laughed. “Someone once asked to buy my bookshop, and I said ‘No, and I’d like you to leave now.’”

“And did they?”

“Yes, never came back.” Crowley raised his eyebrows at that, noticing an almost vindictive in Aziraphale’s eyes. 

“What do you _do_ to them, _angel_?” Aziraphale noticed the emphasis on the pet name and playfully head butted Crowley’s shoulder. 

“I don’t normally go this far, but they used some...words I didn’t appreciate.”

“Fair enough.” Crowley’s face lit up and as he pointed between them, he said, “Cool and nerdy.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “Dear, I watched you cry when Han Solo died. And I think I am very cool.”

“Yes, we’re _both_ cool AND nerdy.” Crowley winked at Aziraphale before laying on his shoulder. They sat like for a while, Aziraphale matching Crowley’s slow breaths. 

“Crowley?”

“Hmm?”

“Does it ever go away?” Crowley started rubbing Aziraphale’s back as the angel continued, “Just...feeling like you’re always a step away from them, that they’ll walk around the corner, and…” He stopped then, clearly not wanting to get into specifics. He leaned against Crowley’s head as Crowley continued making slow circles on his back. 

“No. It doesn’t.” Crowley felt Aziraphale deflate. “But it gets better. And you find ways to deal, to move further away.” 

“What do you do, Crowley?”

“Lots of things. Pick up hobbies, go for walks. Therapy. Find people who make you feel safe even when it feels like they’re breathing down your neck.”

“But what about you specifically?”

“That’s what I just told you, angel.”

“Oh. Yes, of course.” Aziraphale looked over at Crowley. “I make you feel safe?”

Crowley thought about joking, saying that no, it was the Aardvark at the London Zoo, but figured now wasn’t the time. He thought about how kind Aziraphale was, and all the times he had worked to help others. To help him. “Yes, Aziraphale. Impossibly so.”

As Aziraphale squeezed Crowley’s hand, he thought about how Crowley told him things, the time when he promised not to lie to him. And just now, when he told him that his feelings were important. It was only in the past few weeks that he’d realized how foreign those ideas were to him, how outside of Crowley, he had been forced to try and succeed, even when he didn’t have information, even when the others looked down on him, and through it all he put his all into it just to be taken for granted. But not with Crowley. Never with him. 

“You make me feel safe too, Crowley. Thank you.” Aziraphale wiped tears from his cheek. “For everything.”

Crowley pulled a tissue from a box that had not been there prior and handed it to Aziraphale, who smiled softly and dabbed at his eyes. “Of course. Right back at you, angel.” Both entities felt the others tears fall on their shoulders, and they snuggled closer, sitting comfortably in the eye of the storm of their emotions. 

They sat like that for a while, tangled in each other. An angel and a demon, good and evil, best friends and the loves of each other’s lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	4. Power of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale made a promise he doesn't know how to keep, and now the two have to figure out the human puzzle of batteries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one kind of ran away from me, but in a good way
> 
> Also, a note about the titles: yes, the last three have been very similar. I realized after the other two were already published, and this one's title fit too well to change. I apologize. I might change them later.

Crowley pulled the top part of his newly-shoulder length hair up and started wrapping a ponytail around the short ponytail when there was a knock at the door. Still messing with his hair, he called out, “Coming,” and made his way to the front. With a flick of his head, the door opened, and Aziraphale stood behind it, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet. 

“Hello, dear-Oh, you’ve grown out your hair, it’s nice.”

“Hello Aziraphale. Why didn’t you just use your key?”

“Oh!” Aziraphale patted his pocket. “Quite right, I must have forgotten.” His voice matched the agitation of his bouncing, and Crowley stepped into the hallway, gesturing to the door to swing shut behind him. 

“Is everything alright, Zira?” They had been planning on going out that night. They had decided that not every meal they ate together could be considered a ‘date’, because that out far too many expectations on an event that happened so frequently. Crowley had a feeling tonight’s date was going to be postponed, though. 

Not that he minded, of course. Adventuring with Aziraphale was just as good as a date. 

They started walking down the hallway as Aziraphale explained, “Oh, I’ve messed up. I was walking out of the bookshop, and you know that sweet lady who runs the tea shop two doors down?”

“Mrs. Darcy?”

“Yes, she came up to me. You see, we both have the same wooden clock, she noticed a few years ago. And hers has apparently run out of batteries, and she asked me if I had any.”

“I take it you did not.”

“No, I’ve never bought batteries in my life!” Neither the angel nor the demon had. They knew, at least to a vague degree, what they were, but had never had the need to interact with them. Aziraphale simply believed in the abilities any items that would normally need them, and they were happy to oblige. Crowley did something similar: he just assumed any device he bought would work the way he expected, so they did. 

“Alright, then what did you do? Tell her that?”

“No, worse,” moaned Aziraphale. “I said I would pick some up for her. I don’t know what kind of batteries that clock takes!”

“And you couldn’t ask because she assumes you’re using the batteries to run the same clock.” Aziraphale nodded. “Alright, let’s start by heading to the shop and breaking open this bloody ticker.”

Aziraphale looked alarmed. “Are you going to break it?”

“ _No_ , there’s a...port or something, so you can change the batteries. Probably.” 

Crowley convinced Aziraphale to drive to the shop (“Driving to dinner will be simpler after”), and soon they pulled up in front. The shadows of the flames and the bone-crushing fear from that awful day were leaving Crowley slowly, leeched like poison from a wound each time he drove up. But he still shivered a little, and he reached over and clumsily squeezed Aziraphale’s hand before climbing out of the Bentley. Aziraphale got out too, and walked around to hook an arm in Crowley’s. 

“I’m right here, dear. Don’t worry.” They walked in, Aziraphale making a show of unlocking the door in case of onlookers. 

“Oh, now you remember the key.”

“Hush, I was worried and the hall was empty.” Once they were inside, Aziraphale snapped some lights on and bustled to a corner where Crowley could see a wooden clock, intricately carved and about the size of a bread box. “Clear a spot on that table over there, under the lamp,” called Aziraphale, and Crowley went over and stacked one pile of books on another, pushing the new pile into a corner. 

Aziraphale walked over and set the clock down, facing the two entities. They both bent down and stared at it, Aziraphale’s head titling slightly. Crowley reached out and carefully poked the face. “I don’t think it opens here.”

“Maybe the bottom?” Aziraphale picked it up and tilted it, but no panel was apparent there either. “Shoot.”

“Check the back.” And, sure enough, on the back was a clear seam and some hinges, along with two small screws holding it closed. Aziraphale looked around the shop. 

“I think I have correctly sized screwdrivers around here somewhere-”

“Angel.” Aziraphale looked over at Crowley, who tapped the screws, which proceded to screw themselves out and fall neatly on the table. Aziraphale nodded sheepishly. Crowley smiled a little before leaving Aziraphale to find a second chair. 

Once they were both seated, they opened the panel to reveal a complicated network of gears and metal, all clicking intermittently. “Oh dear,” murmured Aziraphale. “I hope we won’t have to mess with those.”

“They wouldn’t make changing the batteries that hard.” Aziraphale heard the implied ‘probably’ in Crowley’s voice and sighed. He looked below the clockwork and sat up a little. 

“I think I’ve found something. Here, there seems to be two slots.” He pulled the light closer as Crowley leaned in to squint at them. Aziraphale had to focus in order not to start playing with the new long hair. 

“Yep, look like battery slots. What’s the spring for, though?”

“To hold it in?”

“I guess.” Crowley turned back in time to see Aziraphale staring at his hair. As the angel looked up with a guilty expression, Crowley casually said, “Want to braid it after dinner?”

Aziraphale lit up. “I don’t know how to, but I’d love to try!”

“If I can teach you to french braid, you could do it for me. I could never get the hang of that.”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow as Crowley stood up. “Couldn’t you just miracle it in?”

“Look,” muttered Crowley, gesturing at his hair. “I wanted to-well-my-for hell’s sake Aziraphale, let me give you an excuse to play with my hair.”

“Oh, I don’t need an excuse, just your permission. The braid will do nicely, though.” Crowley scoffed as he walked towards the door. “Should we bring the clock?”

“No, it’ll look suspicious.” The two walked out, Crowley snapping the lights off as Aziraphale performed his key pantomime. “So, now what?”

“We go buy batteries, of course.”

“But _where_?”

Aziraphale looked around. “Good question, dear.” He closed his eyes, mouthing indistinctly as he tried to imagine the surrounding streets. Crowley watched him fondly, knowing this thinking face _very_ well. What came after it was sometimes good, sometimes bad, but it was always worth it. 

“Oh!” Azirapahle opened his eyes and grinned. “There’s a Lloyd’s a block that way. They should have what we need.” At that point, Aziraphale’s earnestness and the way the fading sunlight struck his hair proved to be too much for Crowley, so he leaned over and kissed him. Aziraphale grabbed his hand as he kissed back, and then pulled apart, smiled at each other, and started walking towards the pharmacy, still holding hands. 

They walked in through the sliding doors, and started looking for the batteries. As they walked down an aisle, Aziraphale turned to Crowley and asked, “Could you grab a basket? Mrs. Darcy has a donation box for the shelter down the street. I can drop some things off when I give her the batteries.”

“Of course, angel.” Crowley went back to the front of the store and grabbed a basket from the pile. Then, he had a stroke of genius. “Excuse me,” he called, looking at the bored looking youth behind the counter. 

Without looking up from the paper they were writing on, they responded, “Yes?” 

“Could you tell me where the batteries are?” The youth pointed lackadaisically to the far left corner of the store. “Thank you.” 

“Mhmm.” Crowley made his way down the aisles back to Aziraphale, who was balancing at least ten items in his arms. 

“For Heaven’s sake, Zira, do you just want to buy the whole store?”

“That’s an idea, isn’t it?” Aziraphale let Crowley help load up the basket. “But I don’t think that would be allowed.”

“Yes, I think the 19 year old at the counter may be charged with murder. Speaking of which,” Crowley said, snapping his fingers and pointing to the left, “I know where the batteries are.”

“Very good! Did you find a map?”

Crowley gave Azirapahle an incredulous look. “A map? No, I just asked the kid up there.”

“Oh. Quite true.” Crowley muttered something that sounded suspiciously like _A map?_ as they wandered down the aisle. Aziraphale looked slyly over at Crowley. “I’m surprised you didn’t simply miracle the basket, anyway. For someone who’s been yelling at me about it all evening-”

“Ok, first of all, I have not been _yelling_ , I’ve been _gently asking_.” Aziraphale hummed a little and gently bumped Crowley with his shoulder. “And second, I was worried about people seeing, and-well-” Crowley’s voice dropped to an indistinct murmur, spitting out consonants as he gestured vaguely at the store. 

“I know, dear, I’m teasing.” Crowley bumped Aziraphale back with a grin, and they finally made their way to the battery display. Aziraphale breathed in sharply. “Oh dear lord, I didn’t realize there were so many types.”

Crowley walked up to the display, looked around to make sure he was alone, and slid his glasses down to see the display a little better. “Do you think we get a bunch of these circles and put them in the slots?”

Aziraphale leaned down next to him. “No, I would think they would put more in a packet if that was the case.” They both continued scanning the display. 

“Wait a second.” Azirapahle looked at Crowley in confusion. “I seem to remember someone saying that you lick a battery to see if it’s working.”

“Lick it?”

“Yes?”

“Why?” 

Crowley shrugged. “That’s all I know, I heard this in, maybe the 90s?”

“Well, I think we have to assume that batteries coming straight from the package will work. Besides, I’m not going to lick something that I’m giving to Mrs. Darcy.”

“Fair enough,” muttered Crowley. “Wait, maybe something like this?” He pointed to a package of cylindrical batteries. “That seems like the right shape.”

“Yes it does.” Aziraphale squinted at the row. “What is the difference between aah and aaah?” 

“Maybe the longer scream has more power?” Crowley squinted at the packages. “Except I think the aaah is smaller.”

“Fascinating. Do you remember how long the slots were?” Crowley looked down at his hand, and held his thumb and forefinger four to five centimeters apart. He held them up first to the ‘aaah’s, and then the ‘aah’s. 

“It looks like it’s the aahs.” Aziraphale looked between the two, clearly worried about whatever decision he would make. “Why not get both, and we can try it out?”

“Oh, that’s a wonderful idea,” said Aziraphale, clearly relieved. “We can give the ones that don’t work to the shelter, or something.” He looked over to see Crowley staring at him, a soft smile on his face. “What?”

“You’re so good, angel.” He said it with a hint of teasing, but it was almost drowned out by the overwhelming love that filled every word, every syllable to bursting. 

Aziraphale leaned up and kissed him on the cheek before whispering, “I thought demons couldn’t like being good.”

“Well Zira,” said Crowley with a wink, “we both know I’ve never been a very good demon.”

They got two packets each of the aa and the aaa, and they went up front, where the kid was still filling out some kind of paperwork. They scanned the items quickly, and Crowley noticed their purple, green, and white rubber bracelet. He tapped Aziraphale and pointed while commenting, “Cool bracelet.” 

The cashier looked up with a mixture of nervousness and surprise on their face. The nervousness faded, however, when Aziraphale started bouncing a little and chatting. “Oh, that’s lovely! Could I see it?” They held it out for him, and he looked at it, continuing, “Oh my, it says ‘neither’, how clever. Where did you get it?”

“University club. But I think they ordered them online.” All traces of nervousness had vanished, and they smiled, pleased at how excited Aziraphale was about the whole thing.

“Very good.” Aziraphale handed over the money needed to pay for their items, and the cashier handed him a bag containing them. “Thank you very much, my good person.” 

“Yeah, of course.” Crowley gave the kid a mock salute as they left, and then he and Aziraphale walked hurriedly to the bookshop, the setting sun reminding them that their dinner was approaching quickly. 

Soon enough, they were back in front of the desk, where the clock was still sitting open. “Um.”

“Yes?”

“Do _you_ know how to go about this?”

“Not a clue, angel.” Crowley pulled out his phone and started typing. “Maybe there’s a video of how…” He stopped and squinted at the screen. “Why would I turn an aah into an aaah?”

Aziraphale peered over at Crowley’s phone. “Are they setting those batteries on fire?”

Crowley sighed and locked his phone. “I think we need another...plan.” He trailed off, staring into some middle distance. 

“Crowley?”

“I have an idea.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“This seems overly complicated, Crowley.”

“It’ll be fine, angel. You don’t have to come with me, you know.” The two entities sat in the Bentley at a local school, having spent the previous night finalizing Crowley’s plan. They had miracled a teacher’s doctor’s appointment to move up a day, gotten Crowley an official degree (“To be fair,” he’d explained, “I’ve attended the necessary classes, I just did it under a number of aliases over 60 years.”), and Aziraphale had insisted that he worked in the office while Crowley enacted his scheme. 

“I don’t really like ‘scheme’, angel, it’s just a reconnaissance mission.”

“Fair enough.” The two got out of the car at that point, and Azirapahle noticed that Crowley had a dark pant suit rather than his normal outfit. “Is that a new suit?”

“It is, do you like it?” Crowley struck a pose, making Aziraphale chuckle. 

“It looks lovely, dear.” Crowley grinned, and they walked into the school. 

The front office was in chaos, and Crowley breathed it in, trying not to revel in it _too_ much. “Yes, hello, I’m a substitute from the agency?” Someone looked up and finally saw the two strangers in the lobby. 

“Oh thank God,” the woman said, getting up from her desk to hurry over to them. 

“I don’t think you need to thank Her, necessarily,” muttered Crowley. Aziraphale shot him a look as the woman approached them. 

“Hello, er, Professor.”

“Hello, yes, I called yesterday and was asked to come in?”

“Oh yes, of course!” Crowley sent a sideways look at Aziraphale. It was incredible what people would believe if you simply stated what they wanted to hear as a fact. “Wonderful, you’ll be taking Ms. Parson’s Year 7 English class, Room 126.”

“Very good, shall I head there now?”

“That would be fine, yes.” Crowley squeezed Aziraphale’s arm and left, slipping into the growing sea of students. “And you, sir, I don’t believe we have anymore classes that need-”

“Oh, no, no, I’m here to help in the office. I also called yesterday.” Aziraphale was a little more awkward, but the harried office worker seemed to need the help more than she wanted to be suspicious of this stranger. 

“Alright, we’ve actually been needing someone to sort out some files.”

Aziraphale perked up at that. “Oh, I do enjoy sorting, thank you.” She nodded and led him back to the file room, and Aziraphale looked over his shoulder to see if he could find Crowley, but the demon had disappeared into the hallway. 

Crowley made his way to the classroom and walked in, rehearsing his plan in his head. A few students were already at their desks, eating snacks or chatting with the people next to them. One kid had headphones in the back corner. A couple of the kids looked up in surprise when Crowley walked in. 

“Is Ms. Parsons ok?” 

Crowley looked at the girl who had spoken. She was eating an apple and looked concerned. “Yes, yes, she’s fine, I believe she had a doctor’s appointment.” The girl nodded and went back to her book. A few minutes later the first bell rang, and kids started filing into the room. Crowley went to the board and wrote ‘Crowley’ in spiky letters. 

After a few minutes, the second bell rang, and the kids settled in their seats, looking towards Crowley at the front of the room. He stared at them, realizing this might be a little harder than he’d first thought. “Um. Hello, class. I’ll be subbing for Ms. Parsons today.”

“Where’s Ms. Parsons?”

“Doctor’s appointment,” answered the girl with the apple, clearly pleased to know the answer.

“Yeah, what she said,” Crwoley said, pointing at her. 

“What should we call you?”

“Oh, yes! Crowley, right here.” He pointed at the board, and then became unnerved as the kids stared at him in silence. “What?”

“Um,” one kid started, middle of the room, blue shirt. “But, what do we call you?”

Crowley raised his eyebrows. “I don’t believe I’m following.”

“Like, Ms, Mr, Mrs…” one kid called from the back.

“Dr, Mx,” another added. 

“Oh! I don’t really care for honorifics, just Crowley.” The kids looked shocked. “It’ll be fine, I promise. Anyway, good introductions, very fun, now onto your assignment for the day.” The kids shifted, clearly still confused, but Crowley knew he didn’t have time to try and untangle that knot. 

“You all will be doing a writing exercise.” A few of the kids groaned. “Now, now, this one will be fun. You all are going to pretend that I am a, um, space alien. From Alpha Centauri. And I have just come to Earth, and I want to learn how to do, well, things. You need to give me detailed instructions, but not just any detailed instructions. When you’ve finished, I am going to do exactly what you tell me to do. I will only use the items you indicate, and only do the things you tell me to do.”

Apple girl raised her hand. “Excuse me?” He pointed to her. “What’s the purpose of this exercise?”

He grinned at that, and it must have had some hint of the demon in it, because the girl shrank back a little. “Very good, very good. I do like questions. What’s your name?”

“Eve,” she said nervously. _Ah,_ thought Crowley, _Apple girl was more appropriate than I imagined._

“Well, Eve, this exercise forces you to write from a foreign perspective, and also makes you consider everyday activities beyond our usual day to day lives. We all know how to make a sandwich, or change a lightbulb, or put batteries into an antique clock.” He was on a roll now, and didn’t notice Eve’s eyebrows jump up at the last one. “But now we have to put ourselves in someone else’s shoes. Does that answer your question, Eve?” 

“Yes, Professor.”

“Fantastic. And you don’t have to call me professor.” He clapped. “Alright, you have 40 minutes to write, then we’ll test some out at the end.”

“Pro-um, Crowley?” Crowley looked up at the kid in the back. “May I put my headphones on while we write.”

“I don’t see why not, as long as you get your work done.” The kids looked shocked at that, and a good number of them quickly grabbed headphones or earbuds and started working on their assignment. As Crowley watched them writing furiously, he smiled. His plan was going off perfectly. 

He would walk around the room every once in a while, but did his best not to hover unless a kid had a question. It was on one of these walks that he overheard two kids whispering in a corner. 

“Have you ever seen them before?”

“Nope, must be a new sub. They seem cool though.”

“I’m absolutely stealing ‘I don’t care for honorifics’. Most nb thing I’ve heard this week.” At that point, Crowley realized that the question of titles had served a twofold purpose: to figure out how to address him, yes, but to try and clear up his pronoun situation. He thought about going over and talking to the kids, but he decided not to; the only reason he had heard them was his heightened hearing, and he felt a little bad about eavesdropping anyway. 

Besides, he had always been fine with any pronouns, so the conversation wouldn’t be that interesting anyway. Just ‘sure, that’ll work kids, thanks’. No sense in it. 

At the end of the 40 minutes, Crowley cleared his throat and said, “Alright, anyone who’s done, bring your papers up. If you’re not, keep working, and try to finish by the end of class.” About half the class stood up and brought their papers to Crowley. The other half, including Eve, continued writing. 

“Wonderful, let’s start. Let’s see,” he said, shuffling through the papers. “Carson? Where are you?” A boy with curly black hair raised his hand. “Very good, are you alright if we try yours out?”

“Sure,” Carson said with a shrug. Crowley looked back down at the paper. 

“Making a sandwich. Classic one, alright-Yes, Eve,” because the girl had raised her hand. 

“How are we going to make a sandwich, Crowley?”

“I came prepared, don’t worry.” He kicked his bag open and started reading off the ingredients list. “Bread, sliced. Ham. Cheese. Knife. Mayonnaise. No mustard? That’s not wrong, I suppose just a taste thing.” As he read, he pulled out the items, summoning them inside the bag. “Now Carson, you did not indicate the need for a plate, so I will be making this on the table, which isn’t ideal.”

“Sorry.”

“Oh, don’t apologize! This is an exercise, that’s the point. Besides, who needs plates anyway? Maybe they’re all dirty.” Carson sat up a little straighter. Crowley smiled encouragingly at him, and continued making the sandwich. By the end, he had a perfectly respectable sandwich. 

“Very good, Carson! Now, anyone need food today?” Everyone shook their heads. “Alright figured I’d check.” He took a bite out of the sandwich. “Alright, let’s see who else we have here…” He flipped through the papers again. Lightbulbs, starting a fire (he _very_ much wanted to do that one, but he figured that could cause more problems than it was worth), making a paper snowflake, play the recorder… _shit_. No batteries. Well, he had other classes. 

He picked one at random, and led the class through making a flower crown. 

“Crowley, why do you have flowers with you?”

“Why don’t you?” The class laughed at that, and Crowley decided that he might want to consider actually becoming a substitute, rather than just using it as a way to collect information. He needed something to do during the day. 

“Alright, that’s all for today, everyone else, bring your papers up.” The rest of the class shuffled up and dropped off papers as the bell rang. “Have a good day, go forth and do...things.” The last kid in line to turn in a paper was Eve, and she slid it across the table, a strange glint in her eye. 

“Thank you, Eve, keep asking questions.” She nodded and walked out the door, and Crowley looked down at the paper. 

_You were too specific for this to be insignificant. So here you go._ And, sure enough, the paper was titled, ‘How to put batteries in an antique clock’. 

“Crowley?” The demon looked up to see Aziraphale standing in the doorway. “Any luck?”

Crowley waved Eve’s paper. “Yep. We’ll have those batteries figured out after we’re done here.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale raised his eyebrows. “I thought you said you would leave as soon as you had a solution.”

“Well,” Crowley said, waving his hand at the classroom, “it would be rude to leave them in the lurch.” Aziraphale was smiling at this point, and Crowley muttered, “If you need to go, you can take the Bentley.”

“Oh no, I’m doing some lovely work in the file room. I was just checking on you.” Aziraphale smiled wider, and Crowley finally smiled back. At that point, kids started filing into the room, and Aziraphale waved at Crowley, and made his way out into the hallway. 

Crowley suddenly ran out into the hallway and called towards the retreating angel. “Hey, are we still on tonight, angel?”

Aziraphale turned back. “Of course, dear.” He shook his head a little, but his smile shone as he turned back and continued back to the office. 

For the rest of the day, Crowley led the same teaching exercise and endeared the kids to him by wisecracking and not yelling at them. Aziraphale worked happily in the office, and when he left, the other workers walked in to find the room cleaner than it had ever been, with a neatly typed inventory of where things were. 

He had not had access to a computer, as far as they knew, but they hadn’t watched his every move, so he must have…

Crowley and Aziraphale drove home, the angel reading a copy of Eve’s essay. “This is really very clever, Crowley.”

“They all were, I just felt weird taking the others home. They were good kids.”

Aziraphale looked over at Crowley. “You seemed really happy in there. You still do.”

“Yeah, I enjoyed it. I think I might actually try to join an agency, you know?”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea.” Crowley glanced over and smiled at Aziraphale. 

“This way, you won’t have to deal with me as much.”

“Oh hush, I never have to _deal_ with you, darling.”

They got back to the shop and hurried inside, Aziraphale glaring down someone who tried to come in after them. They went to the clock and Crowley slapped the paper on the table, and grabbed the aah batteries, and went to gnaw them open. Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Sorry,” he sighed, and tapped the package, which popped open. 

“Alright, so we take the battery, and we put the flat side, or the negative side-“

“Why is it negative?”

“I think it’s like a magnet.”

“Aah.”

“No, that’s the battery.” Crowley moaned and face palmed, Aziraphale smiling mischievously. “So, we take the negative end, and press it in on the spring like this-oh dear.” They watched as the battery went flying across the room from where it had slipped from Aziraphale’s fingers and jumped off the spring. 

“Maybe not like that, Zira.”

“Would you like to try?” Crowley took the proper battery and carefully put it in while Aziraphale went and picked up its far-flung counterpart. 

“Got it. It looks like these are the right ones.” The battery sat snugly in the spot, and Crowley and Aziraphale grinned at it like proud parents. 

“Perfect. Let’s put it back in, seal it up, and we should be able to catch her before she leaves.” Crowley worked on fixing the batteries up while Aziraphale found the bag of donations. They put it all together, replaced the clock on its shelf, and made their way to the tea shop, where Mrs. Darcy was pleased to accept the batteries and the donations. 

“Thank you so much, you two! I’ve been missing the ticking of this old thing,” she said, replacing the batteries in the clock. 

“It was no trouble at all,” Crowley lied. He checked his watch as the clock on the table started ticking again. “Zira, we should get going, dinner soon.”

“Of course, take care, Mrs. Darcy.” She waved merrily as they hurried out of the shop and to the Bentley, where they drove off to dinner. 

Later that evening, Crowley sat on the floor in front of the couch, which held Aziraphale squinting at a laptop sitting on the coffee table and trying to braid Crowley’s hair. He could tell Aziraphale was messing up, but he never pulled his hair too hard, so Crowley just sat back and let the angel figure it out. 

“You really think I should look into being a substitute?”

“Absolutely. You’re much better with kids than I am, and you seemed to enjoy today so much.”

‘The kids seemed happy too, and that’s the important part.” Crowley smiled and pointed at the CD player, which started to quietly play Queen. “That alright, dear?”

“Yes, I can still hear the video.” They sat like that for another hour before they fell asleep, one after the other. Crowley’s hair was neatly braided, and Aziraphale’s hand was resting on top of it, their breathing synchronized as Queen played on in the background.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you!


	5. If Music Be the Food of Love, Play On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley go music shopping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for brief discussions of abuse
> 
> Thanks!

Aziraphale and Crowley were taking a walk after lunch, peeking in the windows of shops and talking. Well, Aziraphale was doing most of the talking right now, and that suited Crowley perfectly. 

“They are just _fascinating_ creatures, dear. They’re a kind of parrot native to New Zealand. They can’t fly, they just waddle around-hold on, I found a video.” Aziraphale pulled out his phone and navigated to a video, showing a large grey bird moving through undergrowth. At one point, the video cut, and it showed the bird not-so-gracefully gliding out of a tree. 

“Thought you said they didn’t fly.”

“They don’t, Crowley. Did that look like flying to you?”

“It flew better than some of the demons I know. Well, knew. If I saw them again, they’d probably either kill me on the spot or run away screaming.” Aziraphale laughed. “You said these, kakapi?”

“Kakapo.”

“Yes, those, you said they were endangered?” At Aziraphale’s nod, Crowley smirked. “Can’t imagine why, with competence like that.”

“Oh, don’t be rude, Crowley. 

“I’m so sorry, angel, I didn’t realize the parrots from New Zealand we’re here with us, please, continue.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, but continued nonetheless. “They didn’t prepare them for predators on the ground, so they didn’t need to fly. And besides, the bigger problem is they have an excruciatingly slow mating process! They only search for mates at a very certain time, sometimes years apart, and their mating call is so that it’s hard for other birds to find them-“ Aziraphale stopped suddenly when he noticed Crowley’s grin. 

“What’s up, Zira?” Crowley’s voice could not hide the teasing glint in his eyes, and Aziraphale huffed. 

“ _I_ am not an endangered species, Crowley.”

Crowley slung his arm around Aziraphale’s shoulder. “I thought if there was only one creature like it, that would be the most endangered of them all.” Aziraphale blushed and reached up and clumsily squeezed Crowley’s hand where it lay on his shoulder. 

He knew it would be a while before he stopped hearing ‘going slow’ jokes, but he also knew that was only because he hadn’t said anything to Crowley about it; he never made the jokes to win anything, he never used them to pressure him. They were simply a point of light teasing, teasing that came from a loving place. So Aziraphale knew, if there ever came a time that he wanted the jokes to stop, they would. 

It was a nice change of pace from a bright, sterile place where beneath the shine, there was a cold indifference at best, and that was when there wasn’t sharp malice. He hadn’t realized it at the time, of course, he had believed for so long that Heaven wasn’t like that, _couldn’t_ be like that. But that facade had slowly been chipped away over the years, and then it came crashing down when the End of the World didn’t happen. 

He knew now that he had been mistreated, the word _abused_ thrown around when he and Crowley talked about it, late at night when sleep wouldn’t come. He had always said he realized the full extent of the truth on the airfield, but he has never told Crowley the moment it happened. 

He wasn’t sure how he could explain the feeling of always hearing that Gabriel’s eyes were bright, piercing purple, but only being able to confirm this fact for the first time when he looked into them to ask him about the Ineffable Plan. 

He blinked those eyes away from his vision, pulling himself back to the present to find that Crowley has slowed down in order to look at him with concern. 

“Are you alright, angel?” His voice was soft, and Aziraphale responded simply by leaning against his shoulder as they walked. “Do you want to go into a shop for a bit?”

“If you’d like.” Crowley poked him in the side, making Aziraphale chuckle. “Yes, I would enjoy going into a shop.”

“Ok.” They wandered past a few more windows before pausing outside a music shop. Crowley raised his eyebrows, and Aziraphale nodded, pulling open the door for Crowley. 

“What, no ‘get thee behind me, foul fiend’?”

“Oh hush, dear.” But, of course, he still smiled fondly as Crowley sauntered in. He followed quickly behind, and sighed happily looking at the rows of cds, records, and tapes. 

“Mr. Crowley?” Aziraphale looked up in surprise to see an older man bustling towards them, and Crowley grinning. 

“Mr. Kim! You know you can just call me Crowley, right?”

“It’s been so long since you’ve been in, I didn’t want to assume,” Mr. Kim said, grinning. 

“I’m sorry it’s been so long, I’ve been busy,” said Crowley, turning to Aziraphale. “Mr. Kim, this is my partner, Aziraphale.” Crowley raised his eyebrows a bit, clearly asking if that introduction was alright. 

Aziraphale grinned and held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Kim.”

Mr. Kim shook his hand. “You as well. I believe I’ve heard a lot about you.” Crowley turned scarlet as Mr. Kim winked at Aziraphale. 

“Thanks, Mr. Kim,” Crowley muttered, grabbing Aziraphale and clumsily pulling him away. 

“Let me know if you two need any help!”

“We will, thank you so much.” Aziraphale said as Crowley waved vaguely back at Mr. Kim, who had started navigating the rows to another customer. “Any recommendations, dear?”

“As long as you don’t call them ‘bebop’.” Aziraphale laughed at that, and Crowley smiled, the music of Aziraphale’s laughter healing his slightly wounded pride. Aziraphale did notice, however, that Crowley’s ears stayed a little red as they wandered through the store. 

Aziraphale stopped to flip through some older records, and Crowley placed a hand lightly on his shoulder. “I’m going to look at the cds, angel.” Aziraphale hummed in response, and Crowley sauntered off. 

_Bee Gees. Hamilton. Beach Boys. The Who._ Aziraphale flipped through the vinyl, every once in awhile admiring the shop. The smell of books was different than the smell of music, but at its core was the same, he decided. Having the collection of hundreds of storytellers in a space filled the air in a certain way, and Aziraphale enjoyed the fact that there was more than one way to find that experience. 

He paused as he revealed a Sinatra album, and he remembered the day a few weeks prior when he’d walked around a corner of the bookshop to find Crowley dancing to an online video of _Fly Me to the Moon_. He had opened his eyes to find Aziraphale smiling softly at him, and had proceeded to grab the angel’s hand and dance with him until the song ended. When the song ended, Aziraphale had pulled Crowley in for a kiss, and afterwards had whispered, “Didn’t take you for a Sinatra fan.”

“His music was relaxing, in its own way. And I guess I just have a weakness for blue eyes, angel.” 

Aziraphale smiled back in the music shop and picked up the record. He made his way to the counter and purchased it, miracling a reusable bag from his pocket. Once he was done, and the record safely hidden, he went and found Crowley, who was deep in the rock section, reading the back of an Elton John album. 

“I think I’ve tried to buy this one twice, now, but I left it in the Bentley both times.” He looked up and saw that Aziraphale was holding a bag. “What’d you get, Zira?”

“It’s a surprise. You said you’ve tried to buy this cd before?”

“Well, it wasn’t always a cd, but yeah. And that’s nothing, I tried to buy a Wham album five times. I’m just forgetful, sometimes.” Crowley shrugged, and made to put the Elton John back. An idea formed in Aziraphale’s mind, and he reached out and stopped Crowley’s arm. 

“Well, there’s no time like the present, dear.” Crowley looked at him for a moment, then grinned, pulling the cd back from the rack. He bent down and flipped quickly through some cds, finally pulling out the mentioned Wham album. 

“No time like the present, indeed.” They both went up to the counter and Crowley bought the cds, accepting Aziraphale’s offer to put them in his bag. As they left, they both waved at Mr. Kim, who smiled at them. 

“Come back soon, Crowley!” Crowley gave him a thumbs up, and then they were back on the street. Aziraphale knew it was time to enact his plan, so he turned resolutely to the right. Crowley walked with him for a few steps before he spoke. 

“Where are we going, Zira?”

“Home,” Aziraphale hummed, breathing in the night air. 

“Oh.” A pause. “The car is that way.”

“The bookshop and the flat are this way.” Crowley stopped dead in his tracks and stared at Aziraphale. 

“ _What?_ ” Crowley stammered a bit, and Aziraphale waited patiently for him to find the words he was looking for. “Zira, the bookshop is five kilometers away, and then my flat is two more!”

“I know. It’s a nice night for a walk.”

Crowley looked around and shrugged. “I mean, I suppose so…”

“If you don’t want to come, you can take the Bentley, and I will meet you at your flat.”

“No, no,” Crowley mumbled, catching up to Aziraphale. “I’ll walk with you, I’m just confused.”

“Well, I decided I wanted to make sure you got your music untouched by the Bentley. So I’m walking it home.”

“Oh.” They walked for a bit in silence. “That’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you.”

“Of course, Crowley.” Aziraphale hung his bag on his shoulder and put an arm around Crowley’s waist. Crowley slung his arm over Aziraphale’s shoulder, and so they walked through London, chatting happily about everything and nothing. 

An hour and a half later, they made it back to Crowley’s flat. As they made their way in, Aziraphale looked around. “Crowley, do you have a record player?”

“Yeah, why?” Aziraphale handed him his two cds, and then pulled out the Sinatra with a flourish. Crowley beamed, and they put the record on and danced until they couldn’t anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I've got some more Teacher!Crowley on the way, along with other plans.


	6. Kids These Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley sees a familiar face while substitute teaching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you!

Crowley sat at the chair behind the counter at the bookshop as Aziraphale braided his hair. It had become a tradition of sorts whenever Crowley had long hair; it calmed Aziraphale and Crowley, and also left the latter free to do other things with his hands. Currently, he was using them to put in dangly green earrings, holes appearing in his ears as he moved the jewelry closer. 

“What are you teaching today, dear?”

“Science. It’s why I’ve got the jellyfish.” He pointed as his dress, which had a number of bright green jellyfish on the skirt. He poked the earrings again, then groaned. “I need to get better at listening to my alarms.”

“Yes Crowley, but with the way you drive, I’m sure you’ll still be on time.”

“I know,” Crowley grumbled, “I just hate rushing in the morning.” Aziraphale finished the braid and patted him on the shoulder, and Crowley grabbed his bag and went to the door, where started pulling on boots. Suddenly, he stopped and looked up at the ceiling, saying, “Damn it, I forgot a lunch. I’ll have to-” He looked over and was cut off by Aziraphale holding up his lunchbox. 

“I got it for you while you were getting dressed.” Aziraphale made his way to where Crowley was, and handed him the lunchbox. Crowley set it down, snapped at his boots (which started tying themselves), and stood up and hugged Aziraphale. 

“I don’t know what I’d do without you. You are my rock, Zira.”

Aziraphale flushed a little. “It’s just leftovers, Crowley, I think you’re exaggerating.”

“Me, exaggerate?” Crowley winked at Aziraphale. “Maybe a little. But nothing you do is _just_ anything, angel.” Aziraphale leaned up and kissed him quickly. 

“Thank you, dear, but you should probably get going.” Crowley checked his watch, cursed again, squeezed Aziraphale’s hand once more and hurried out the door. Aziraphale called after him, “That dress suits you!” Crowley turned back and smiled, giving him a thumbs up before disappearing towards the Bentley. 

As Aziraphale had so astutely pointed out, Crowley’s driving did significantly cut down on travel time, and he pulled into the school parking lot a full fourteen minutes before the first bell. It had been a bit of a surreal drive, though, because the majority of it up until the final few turnings has been the way to Tadfield all those months ago. If Crowley focused, he could sense a _something_ that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It was residual energy, and it would probably be here for years to come. 

Crowley shook himself out of memories of Armageddon and walked into the school. He navigated through clumps of students and went into the front office. A man looked up and motioned him over. 

“Hello, I’m from the agency?” 

“Yes, you must be…” The man’s voice trailed off as he filed through some papers. 

“Crowley,” he helpfully supplied, to which the man flipped back to the first paper. 

“Crowley, yes… I’m sorry to bring this up, ma’am, but I believe they’ve sent the wrong name.” 

“Oh, no, it’s Anthony. That’s very kind of you ask, though.” The man blushed a little and tried to stammer out an apology. “No, seriously, don’t worry about it. What you did is considerate, I just replied ‘yes’ on the day they asked what gender I was, so I don’t particularly care, I suppose.”

“Fair enough.” Crowley grinned happily as the man ran his finger down a list. “You’ll be in room 256. Is there anything else you need?”

“Nah, I should be fine, Mr…?”

“Goldstein.”

“Mr. Goldstein, have a good day.” Goldstein nodded and went back to his paperwork, and Crowley went back into the swirling masses of students to get to his classroom. 

As he walked into room 256, he looked up to see that he had five minutes before the first bell. He started booting up his computer to show the teacher’s requested video, a little surprised there weren’t any kids waiting in the room. His computer turned on, and then immediately announced it had a required update, would he like to download it now?

“Not like I bloody well have a choice,” he muttered. He knew, he had invented updates like this. He pressed the required button and let his computer cycle through the motions, then checked the room to assure it was empty before snapping a coffee into existence. He didn’t react to coffee the same way humans did, but he found some kind of comfort in it all the same. 

This meant, of course, that when a very familiar voice filled with incredulity said, “ _Crowley?_ ”, he almost spit out his coffee before turning to see that, sure enough, Pepper was standing by his desk, a look of shock on her face. 

Crowley squinted at her, then realized she couldn’t see his eyes. “Pepper, is it? What are you doing here?”

She rolled her eyes. “I go to school here. What are _you_ doing here? Are you here to cause trouble?”

“No! I’m your substitute.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Really, there is no plan here, I just needed something to do, and I like working with kids.” The first bell rang at that point, so Pepper gave him one more suspicious look, then went to her seat. As kids started filing in, Crowley tried to compose himself. He hadn’t been planning on running into anyone that had been there That Day, and seeing Pepper had dredged up some unpleasant feelings. He took a few deep breaths in and out, remembering what his therapist had taught him: take the fear, the pain, all of it, and imagine breathing it out, letting it go. 

By the time the bell rang, signaling the start of class, Crowley was feeling better. The kids shifted in their seats, and he could tell they were curious about this new substitute. He stood up and started talking, writing his name on the board behind him. “Morning, class, I’m Crowley. Any pronouns are fine, s’long as you’re not rude about it.” He saw a few kids perk up at that, and was glad he had decided to add that into his spiel. “As for honorifics, you can also take your pick, but you can also just call me Crowley. I’m not too formal.”

At that point, his computer finished loading and started up, projecting his desktop background onto the screen. It was a picture Aziraphale had taken, when he had wanted to ‘try taking a selfie, Crowley, it’s what the kids are doing’. It was, objectively, horrible; the phone had been held far too close to their faces, cutting off a quarter of Crowley’s face, which had a soft smirk on it. Aziraphale wasn’t looking into the lens, his eyes instead focusing on pressing the right button, but his smile was bright and wide, and for that, Crowley thought it was the best picture ever taken. 

“Who’s that?” Crowley looked up from where he was loading up the roll and smiled. 

“That’s my partner and I. We were feeding the ducks at St. James, and he wanted to take a selfie.” He was about to keep typing when he noticed Pepper had her hand up. “Yes?”

“What did you feed them?”

“My partner?” Crowley knew what she meant, but was feeling a little more chaotic given the situation. 

Pepper sighed. “No, the ducks.”

“Oh. Bread, what else would you feed ducks?” Given the raised eyebrows from about half the class, he figured that was the wrong answer. 

“Bread hurts ducks, _Crowley_.”

“Yeah, you should feed them peas, or something.” This second kid was blithely unaware of Pepper’s accusatory tone, so Crowley bit down his sarcastic response. 

“Peas, alright. Does just birdseed work?” A few students nodded. “Wonderful, learn something everyday, don’t we?” He finished pulling up the roll, saying, “Alright, good introduction for me: Crowley, gender yes, duck care no. Now let’s see you.”

He called out the names, ticking the appropriate box as he went. As he looked up to confirm kids were present, he noticed Pepper glaring at him. He scanned the list real quick, realizing he didn’t see her name- _oh_. 

He didn’t know the girl well, but the little he did know was enough to know that she was not a fan of her given name of ‘Pippin Galadriel Moonchild’. The thought of using that against her never crossed his mind (he was, after all, also using a chosen name), but he also couldn’t help feeling unnerved by her glare. He really shouldn’t be afraid of a human child, but he had also seen her kick the manifestation of War in the shins. He had a feeling that the only reason she hadn’t been the force they had reckoned with over the summer was because the Anti-Christ had been there to take up their time. 

He finished up roll and started class showing the animated video of the experiments the kids would be trying that day. Once that was done, he sent them off to prepare, and he circled the class, making sure they didn’t need help. A few kids talked about his dress, having noticed the jellyfish glow when the lights had been turned off for the video, (his comment of them ruining his chances at being a cat burglar made them laugh), and so the class went. 

Twenty minutes before class ended, everyone was done, cleaned up, and were working on the homework for the evening, so Crowley sat up on the desk and called out, “So, it seems we’re done a little early. Anyone have any questions?”

A boy near the back raised his hand. “Why are you wearing sunglasses?”

“Sensitive eyes, fluorescents hurt them.” This is, of course, what he’d told the school systems as well, so he could continue to hide his snake eyes while indoors. He had thought about getting colored contacts, but hadn’t gotten around to it. Besides, his glasses were a part of his look, which he had told Aziraphale many times, much to the angel’s amusement. 

“How long have you known your partner?”

“You know the bible?” The kid nodded. “Genesis 1:1, we go all the way back.” The class snickered, even Pepper, though she did raise an eyebrow at him all the same. 

Another kid, this one near the front, raised their hand. “Why can’t we do any _fun_ experiments?” A chorus of voices agreed with this question, and Crowley couldn’t help but grin at them. 

“What, are you saying that dish soap and milk isn’t fun?” The kids nodded. “Well, I think it has to do with a safety thing-“

“But we’re _12_ , Crowley! We can handle things!” Crowley managed to not laugh at that, but he was pretty sure it took a small miracle. “Can we please do something interesting?”

“Yes, we still have a quarter of an hour!” Given the eager looks, Crowley had a feeling he wasn’t the first substitute this pitch had been delivered to, and as he looked out at them, his brain started figuring out what he could do with the supplies he had. 

“Well…alright, there is something we could do.” He watched as shocked expressions gave way to excitement, and then he saw Pepper trying to glare a hole through his forehead. “We’re going to be very _very_ careful, though. There should be safety glasses in that cabinet.” A kid ran over and opened it to find the bag of glasses Crowley had just miracled there. 

As the kids got safety glasses, Crowley ducked under the desk and started bringing ingredients into being that would make a small, containable reaction that would still fulfill the kids wishes. He was almost done when he heard a quiet pair of footsteps coming around the table. He quickly put the beaker he was holding down to turn and see Pepper, who looked furious. 

Before he could say anything, she was hissing, “I know what you’re up to, you’re going to make an experiment go wrong and hurt us, aren’t you-”

“ _No._ ” Pepper stopped short at the emotion in Crowley’s voice. “Pepper, I have done a lot of things that are not good, but I draw the line at hurting kids, I always have. I promise you, no harm will come to any of you while you are under my care.”

Pepper hesitated. “How do I know I can trust you?”

“Well, I did help save the world.”

“Oh please,” she said with an eye roll, “I did more to save it than you!”

“Fine, fine. Are we good?” Crowley held a hand out for Pepper to shake. She looked at it, looked at him for a long moment, then shook it. “Great, can you set this on the table over there, it’s perfectly safe.” She took the proffered beaker and carried it to the table Crowley had indicated. He finished preparing the supplies and stood back up to see the class all wearing safety glasses, staring at him in excitement. 

“Alright, now, part of the thing about ‘fun experiments’ is that a lot of the things in them are rather complicated scientifically, so I’ll just be giving a pretty basic overview.” This was true, technically, but this explanation was used more to hide the fact that Crowley had obtained some materials that didn’t exist in abundance on Earth, and he didn’t think he could explain that away easily. So he gave a basic rundown of the kinds of reactions about to happen, and made sure the kids were a proper distance away before he started combining ingredients. 

“A little bit of compound A, a little bit of C, and then we just need a few drops of B…” Compound B was the critical one, and the most dangerous part of all of this. A few drops and there was a fun little light show. Too much more, and well, things could get ugly rather quickly. 

As Crowley got ready to put in Compound B, the air conditioning in the school came on. It was an old system in an even older building, so it made a bit of a commotion when it powered on. This was not the problem; though a few of the students jumped, loud sounds were part of Crowley’s job more often than not, so they didn’t cause him to jump. The problem also wasn’t in the equipment; the system, being so old, wasn’t exactly capable of affecting a temperature change extreme enough to mess with anything Crowley was using. 

It was, however, enough that when a pointed draft of cold air blew from the vent above the table, it hit Crowley and made him shiver. And when Crowley shivers, he _goes for it_. He is, after all, sometimes a snake, and some of the cold-bloodedness carried over to his human-like shape. This normally only meant that he needed more coats in the winter, or that he would steal Aziraphale’s scarf without asking, but at this moment, it meant that he shivered just as he was dropping in Compound B, and he put in far too much. 

Crowley watched this all happen in slow motion, realizing he only had a split second to react. He unfolded his wings on a plane as close to ours as he could without them manifesting in a classroom full of children, then wrapped them and himself around the beaker. He put every ounce of his remaining energy, along with some extra entropy flying through the room, into a barrier around the reaction. And then, he did something he rarely did: he prayed. To whom, he wasn’t quite sure, but whoever it was just heard, _oh no, please let them be ok, let this be enough, please…_

It was over almost as soon as it had begun. He slowly looked up to see the kids had taken a few steps back, some of them going so far as to hide under the desks. He counted them, once, twice, and by the third time was assured that they were all there, unharmed. He could hear himself breathing now, and it was a little ragged. 

“Is everyone alright?” A few hesitant nods.

“Are _you_ alright, Crowley?” He realized that, from their point of view, they had watched Crowley put too much of something into the beaker, and then throw himself onto it while whatever reaction had taken place happened. 

“I think so.” He quietly hoped that he wasn’t obviously bleeding, because he figured leaking a black liquid would raise questions. He lifted a hand to his face, and felt nothing besides his sunglasses, which he adjusted back to straight. “Yes, I think I’m fine. Now, are you all ok?” 

More nods now. “What happened?

“I put too much of that final substance in, but everything was mixed so it wasn’t an issue. I just got worried, that’s all.” He started cleaning up, trying to ignore how his hands were shaking. He started a little when other hands appeared, picking up beakers, wiping at the table. “Oh. Thank you.”

“Can this be rinsed out, Crowley?” He looked over and nodded, then kept directing kids as the water started running. In a few minutes, the room was clean again, and Crowley had calmed down enough to smile at the kids while they debriefed. 

“Alright, class, homework is to finish hat lab report. Any final questions?” No one raised their hand, and as Crowley nodded, the bell rang. “Great. Thank everyone, have a good day.”

As the kids filed out, the one who had asked the question about ‘fun’ experiments came up. “Thank you for showing us that.”

“Of course. Sorry there was so much excitement.” The kid laughed and waved, exiting the classroom. Crowley looked around the room to find that Pepper was the only child left. “That wasn’t meant to happen, Pepper. I-“

“I know.” She had walked up to his desk, and was standing awkwardly, trying to figure out what to say. Crowley took off his glasses to look at her, and let her see his eyes. Her eyebrows raised a little, but all she said was, “I guess my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me at the airfield.”

“Nope. All of that was real.”

Another pause. “Thank you. For saving us.”

“Oh, you know, like I said, the reaction-“

“I could feel it, like when Adam was doing things. I know you kept us safe.”

“Oh. Right. Well.” Crowley didn’t know what to say. “You’re welcome, I suppose.” Pepper nodded and left at that point, and Crowley waved the door shut after her. He leaned back in the chair, hugging himself tightly and breathing to try and stop the tremors. 

On a whim, he grabbed his phone and called Aziraphale. After two rings, he picked up. 

“Hello?”

“Angel, I…” He didn’t know how to finish that sentence. 

“Are you alright, Crowley?”

He made a decision at that point. “Yeah, I’m good. Just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Goodness, Crowley, you hopeless romantic.” There was a gently teasing edge to Aziraphale’s voice, and it made Crowley feel like he has sunk into a warm bath. 

“You know me dear.” At that point, he watched a student from the next class walk in, and he whispered, “Got to go, kids coming in.”

“Good lord Crowley, did you really call me-“

“Yes, sorry, love you, bye.” He hung up as Aziraphale chuckled, and started getting ready for the next class. He decided that if they did do a ‘fun’ experiment, he would choose one that a slightly smaller chance of catastrophic failure. 

After a few more periods came and went without a hitch, Crowley fell back into his chair and pulled out his lunch. He felt the calmest he felt all day, and just as he was thinking once again how lucky it was that nothing awful had happened, a rainbow appeared in the corner. His breath caught in his throat. 

The rainbow was created as a promise to do no more harm, and this fact filled Crowley’s head, but it didn’t make sense-

A knock came at the door. He hopes up and hesitantly went to the window. When he saw who it was, he started laughing and opened the door to reveal The Them, grinning up at him. 

“Crowley, it’s good to see you,” said Adam, his hair still dancing around his face. 

“And you as well Adam. Done any reality bending lately?”

“Actually,” a soft voice said, and Crowley turned to Wensleydale as he continued, “Adam can’t do that anymore, because Mr. Young is his dad now, not Satan.” 

“Do you have to be so loud about it?” As Crowley ushered them in, he noticed that the sun had been glinting off of Wensleydale’s glasses, and had been the source of the rainbow he saw. 

This didn’t mean anything, of course; She played a game so ineffable, a glint off of some glasses was certainly in Her preview. But it did make Crowley wonder. 

“I’ve told you, Wensleydale, I still have a bit of something. I think. Remember I told you about Dog and the hedge?”

“Yes, well, it must be residual. Right, Crowley?” Crowley threw his hands up as the four kids looked to him for answers. 

“Why are you asking me?”

“You’re a demon! You should know about this stuff!”

“Oh believe me, I wish I did. But we’re all in uncharted territory now, I’m afraid.” Crowley sat down and kept unpacking his lunch. “So, what brings you all to my classroom?”

“I told them you were here,” said Pepper. “They wanted to visit you.”

“Well, I’m charmed.” They all are their lunch and chatted, and Crowley couldn’t help but be reminded how he and Aziraphale had set out to be the Antichrist's godparents. They may not have done it the way that was expected, but given the current situation, it appeared they had managed it nonetheless. 

“How is Aziraphale?”

“Oh, he’s well, still running the bookshop-“

“They’re dating now.” Crowley was surprised at Pepper’s interruption. This turned into irritation, however, when the other three children all shouted at once. 

“Finally!”

“Incredible, congratulations, Crowley.”

“Actually, I do believe I saw this coming.”

Crowley sighed loudly. “Yes, we’re dating. You don’t have to act like that, it’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” Cried Pepper. “You told us today you’ve known each other since the bloody beginning!”

“Language.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes! I try to be a good influence while I’m teaching!” Pepper’s look clearly stated she did not believe him one bit. “Anyway, yes we’ve known each other for a while-“

“ _A while?_ ”

“-but we both needed to take it at our own pace! Besides, time works differently for us.”

“Whatever, it’s still wicked.” Adam glanced at the clock, then turned to Crowley. “When are you back here to teach?”

“I don’t know, the agency tells me-“

“Well, then where can I send an invitation?”

Crowley stares at him. “For what?”

“I don’t know. Parties. You and Aziraphale did help me, and I’ve missed talking to you.” He said this very matter-of-factly, and Crowley felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and he knew that Adam was right: he did have some power still. 

However, Crowley wasn’t sure it was simply residual. He took another bite of his food and made a mental note to tell Aziraphale about this, but decided not to say anything to The Them. They seemed to have an idea that something was happening, and he wanted a plan before jumping into this again. 

“Um, Aziraphale has a bookshop in London, the one you-“ Crowley waved his hand awkwardly, not sure how to express the idea of ‘restored with your god-like powers, which it appears you still have, beyond all odds’. “You know. That’s probably the best, lovely place if you want to visit.”

“Excellent.” The bell rang at that point, and the Them got up, picking up their bags and wishing Crowley a good day. He waved at them, then sat back once again. 

He almost wished the weirdest part of his day had been the experiment gone wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It would appear, despite my careful precautions, that this story may be developing a plot. We appreciate your support during this trying time. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please feel free to send me prompts on my tumblr!
> 
> Programming notes: I have a one shot in the works, if that's your style. lots of angst. fun times.
> 
> Also! I have started a blog for image descriptions and captioning for Good Omens @canigetawahoo-4accessibility. Please feel free to come follow and support, but please keep that blog for accessibility only! any story/personal questions should go to my main. Thanks again!


	7. The Art of Not Drowning (and who can help)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale has a panic attack, and he and Crowley discuss recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for discussions of mental illness, trauma, and recovery
> 
> Projection? In MY fic? It's more likely than you think!

Aziraphale sat behind the counter at the shop, reading a science fiction book Pepper had recommended, when a customer who had been puttering around the shop approached the counter. He glanced up from his book and asked, “Yes?”

“Hi, Mr. Fell, I was wondering if you would mind if I took some notes from some of your books. I’ll pay you what I can, but I don’t know if I can afford to purchase-”

“That would be just fine, you don’t have to pay me anything.” Aziraphale was excited at the prospect of not having to sell any of his books while still helping people. He stood up, saying, “Is there anything I can help you with…?”

“Carmen.”

“Carmen! Lovely to meet you, I-” As he walked forward to shake her hand, he got his first good look at her face, and his voice died a little as he saw her eyes. 

Her bright, purple eyes. 

They were different than Gabriel’s. For one, they were filled with excited curiosity rather than uncaring malice. He also realized, somehow, that the iris pattern was different as well, but it wasn’t enough to stop the freight train of a panic response roiling through his veins. 

“Mr. Fell?” Carmen’s voice sounded as if it was coming from down a long tunnel, but it also helped him pull himself back enough to say something. 

“I’m sorry, I think I just had a slight blood sugar drop, I’ll be with you in a few minutes?” Carmen nodded nervously, but Aziraphale was already heading into the back room, head spinning. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his phone before sitting down heavily on a sofa. His chest felt tight, and he didn’t trust himself to speak clearly, so he texted Crowley rather than calling.

> Could you come to the bookshop?  
> I need help.

Almost immediately, a reply:

> b there soon  
> u ok?
> 
> I believe I may be having an anxiety attack.
> 
> just breathe, im close

Aziraphale leaned back in the chair and did as Crowley said. In, hold, out. In, hold, out.

Only a minute later, Aziraphale heard the tell tale screech of brakes, and wondered idly where Crowley had been to get here this quickly. A few moments later, the bell dinged over the door and he heard Crowley call out, “Aziraphale?”

“Back room,” Aziraphale managed, voice much weaker than he would have liked. Crowley soon appeared in the doorway, hand running nervously through his hair. “Hello, dear. Thank you for coming.”

“Got here as fast as I could.” Crowley walked over and sat down next to Aziraphale, gently drawing him into a hug. “What happened?” Aziraphale tried to speak, but something in him broke as Crowley rubbed his back, and he started crying, his breath coming out in short gasps. Crowley pulled him closer and whispered comfort into his ear, and the tears eventually slowed enough for Aziraphale to get a few long, albeit shaky breaths in. 

“I-well, there’s a customer here, and she-”

“Did they do this to you?” Crowley had tensed a little, and was glaring out towards the rest of the shop, clearly ready to fight someone. 

“ _No_ , Crowley, it wasn’t her fault. Her eyes were just purple, like…”

Crowley nodded in understanding. “And it reminded you of things.”

“Yes. I’d forgotten human eyes could be that color.”

“Oh yeah, Liz Taylor was famous for the purple eyes. Rumor in Hell was that the winged bastard actually stole them.”

Aziraphale opened his mouth to scoff at that, then hesitated. “You know, that actually wouldn’t surprise me.” He sighed, starting to disentangle himself from Crowley. “I should go check on Carmen, I think I worried her before.”

“Your customer? Angel, you’re in no state-”

“I’ll be fine, Crowley, unless you want to go talk to her?” Crowley’s face scrunched up at the suggestion, making Aziraphale chuckle. “That’s what I thought. You can walk with me, though, if you don’t mind.”

Rather than respond, Crowley stood up and dramatically held out a hand for Aziraphale to take. Aziraphale grinned and took, hoisting himself up. He stumbled a little, and Crowley caught him, a hand steady on his shoulder. Aziraphale looked up and kissed Crowley, quick yet filled with love all the same. He grabbed Crowley’s hand and pulled him into the shop proper. 

“Carmen? Are you finding everything alright?” They walked towards what Aziraphale thought would be a good place to take notes, and sure enough, there was Carmen at a table, three books open along with the notebook she was furiously writing in. 

She looked up and smiled a little, but looked more tired than anything. “Are you feeling better, Mr. Fell?”

“Yes, thank you-“

“ _Mr. Fell?_ ” Carmen raised an eyebrow at Crowley while Aziraphale chuckled. 

“Carmen, this my partner, Crowley. He seems to have forgotten that just because he doesn’t like formality-“

“It’s not the formality, I’m just not used to anyone calling you ‘Mr. Fell’. I’ve known you for-“

“Many years, yes, darling.” Carmen looked amused by this, and a little less tired. “I just wanted to check and make sure you didn’t need anything, I do apologize for vanishing before.” 

“I’ve got friends with blood sugar problems, you’re fine. And I think I’m getting everything I need.” She tapped her notebook with her pencil. “Should be out of your hair within the hour.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, shop’s open all day.”

Crowley lightly put his hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Now, _Mr. Fell_ needs to go sit down, if you need us, just shout.”

“Thank you. Seriously, these books are going to save my ass in this class.”

“Oh, what class-”

“Zira, we can talk with Carmen once you’re recovered.”

“Yeah, go get better, this class isn’t going anywhere. Unfortunately.” Aziraphale smiled at both Carmen and Crowley, then allowed himself to be led back to the sofa. 

Once they were seated (Crowley had found a blanket big enough for both of them, and Aziraphale put on some tea), Aziraphale sighed. “Thank you again for coming, Crowley. And so quickly too. Where _were_ you, anyway?”

“In my flat.”

“In your-Crowley, you were here in less than two minutes!” Crowley shrugged and shifted closer to Aziraphale. “Good lord, you really are like a bat out of Hell sometimes.”

“I’ll be whatever I have to be to get to you, angel.” Aziraphale blushed just as the tea finished. Both of them were far too comfortable to get up, so Crowley miracled them both a cup, complete with the requisite creams and sugars. Crowley turned as much as he could without disturbing Aziraphale’s head. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. Much better.” Aziraphale hesitated. “Crowley, do you remember a few months ago, we talked about dealing with things like this.”

“Yeah, why?”

“You mentioned therapy. How do you do it?”

“Well, you go to a therapist, and talk-“

“No, no. I mean, how do you talk about more…supernatural things? I’ve been considering going myself, but I don’t know how to deal with the fact that a lot of my issues stem from Heaven! I can’t just walk in and say, ‘I’m a renegade angel dealing with the abuses Heaven poured on me for 6000 years.”

“I don’t see the problem, angel.” Aziraphale reached up and pushed him lightly as he laughed. “No, you’re right. First thing I did was find a place that deals with more clandestine clientele. Spies, government officials. They know how to help while not forcing their patients to reveal secret information.”

“That is a helpful start,” mused Aziraphale. “But I’m surprised there aren’t therapists within those kinds of jobs that could handle classified information.”

“You’d think that, wouldn’t you? But no, the government just thinks it’s a liability, and fires anyone who seeks out help.”

Aziraphale started at Crowley. “That cannot be healthy.”

“Not at all, that’s why places like this have popped up.”

“So, I go to a place like this.”

“Yes, I’ll get you the number of mine if you want.”

“Right. And I simply…don’t give them all the information?”

“Yep. Say it’s your family, or work, or something.” Crowley grimaced a little. “I tend to call Heaven the family that threw me out, and Hell the job I’ve been forced to take to get by.”

“I suppose that’s not completely inaccurate.” Aziraphale curled up a little, sipping at his tea. “I’m scared, Crowley.” Crowley started drawing circles with his thumb where it sat on Aziraphale’s back in response. After a little bit, Aziraphale continued, “I don’t know who I am, to a certain extent. I mean, I think you are the only part of my life that I chose truly for myself.”

“That’s not true. You choose to enjoy food rather than saying it ‘sullies your bloody temple’, this bookshop is reveling in human storytelling, Hell, the damn Gavotte was you being yourself.” 

“I suppose so,” said Aziraphale quietly. “But even then, those things? They aren’t me, they’re things I do, things I learn. I don’t know who I am, who I would be without the things Heaven did. What if I don’t like him? What if you don’t like him?”

“Well, we’ll never know him, so I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” Aziraphale looked at Crowley, his suddenness and expression startling the demon. He looked as if he’d been burned. “Sorry angel, that came out wrong...shit.” Aziraphale relaxed a little as Crowley tried to find the right words. “Look, this thing, recovery. It’s not meant to rebuild you into what you would have been without the trauma. I’m never going to be the angel that I was, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale paled a little. “Oh. Crowley, I wasn’t trying to imply-” Crowley smiled and grabbed Aziraphale’s hand, calming him. 

“I know, I was just giving an example. I thought the same thing too, though. There’s this idea that the you that could have been is hidden inside, you just have to sweep up the debris. But the problem is, that debris is you, to some extent. What’s holding you up right now is the stuff you built to stay afloat. Some of that is sturdy, some of it isn’t. So you take out the bad stuff, and build better stuff in its place. And you’ll use pieces of ‘the old you’, kind of. But some of it can’t be saved, or will never fit back just right.”

Aziraphale shuddered a little as he interrupted, “Then what? Am I-are _we_ just going to be broken people, shambling about?”

“ _No._ And when you’re not shaking like a leaf, I’ll explain.” Crowley pulled Aziraphale closer, and Aziraphale could feel him exaggerate his breathing for him to follow. They sat like that for a bit, until Aziraphale could breathe slowly without his breath hitching in his throat. 

“I’m sorry, Crowley.”

“No need to apologize, angel.”

“It’s almost like I’ve been drowning for 6000 years, and before I didn’t realize, but now that I do, even though I’m closer to the surface, I can feel it so much more acutely than before.” Crowley nodded, which Aziraphale didn’t expect. “Is that normal?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” 

“Well,” Aziraphale said with a grin. “Good to know I’m normal in some aspect.” Still pressed against Crowley’s side, Aziraphale could feel the laugh as it bubbled up and spilled over, filling the room with light. He joined in, giggling, feeling more of the pressure that had built up release into the air. When they finally stopped laughing, Aziraphale said, “Alright, you were saying something about us not being ‘shambling broken creatures?”

“Yes, alright. You know that Japanese technique of fixing things with gold?”

“Kintsugi, yes. It’s quite beaut- _oh_.”

“Bloody clever, you are, angel. The pieces may not fit back like they used to, but something’s been added to hold it together, and it creates something new, instead of trying to fully restore the original. And where there are pieces missing, you just add your own. Everyone does it somehow, integrating new things into themselves. And you want to know what the best part of all this is?”

“No, Crowley, I just thought we’d sit here and not finish the conversation.” Crowley, who had not been expecting a response to his rhetorical, stared at Aziraphale open-mouthed. “I’m kidding, Crowley, tell me.”

“I-um-well then, I-somebody damn it, Aziraphale!”

Aziraphale nuzzled closer to Crowley. “I love you too, dear.”

“ _Anyway_ , so, all these techniques, the supports, the gold, the patchwork? When you use them, it means you build someone you’re happy with. There’s no Aziraphale inside of you that you don’t like, you create your reality.”

“Just like Adam did,” Aziraphale said quietly. 

“Yep, and just like we did, in our own way. Now, none of this is to say you can whisk away the fear, the anxiety, all that. There’ll still be bad times. But recovery, the things you do, it softens it, a little. That’s the goal, in the end. Find who you are, and brace yourself for the storms as they come.”

“That’s quite poetic, dear.”

“Well, my therapist and I figured putting this stuff into words was better than letting them echo in the void of my existence, you know? I’ve got books of the stuff.”

“I’d love to read it someday.”

“I’m sure you would.” Crowley threw back the last of his tea, then smiled at Aziraphale. “One last thing, angel.”

“Hmm?”

“You said something before, about me not liking who you find.” Aziraphale stilled, looking into Crowley’s eyes. “I just want to assure you that I will love you no matter what, and the only thing I need you to do is find comfort for you. Alright?”

This was the reason he had fallen for Crowley, Azirapahle realized. Well, one of the reasons. Crowley cared about him. Not what he could do, not what could be gained by knowing him, but for _him_. He felt tears well in his eyes at that, and Crowley saw them too. 

“Are you alright, angel?”

“Oh, I’m just fine.” And then he leaned up and kissed him, and then Crowley kissed back and all there was in the world was them, wrapped in each other, love swirling around them-

And footsteps at the doorway to the back room, hurrying away. _Shoot_.

They pulled apart together and looked at the door, slightly amused. “Carmen?” Aziraphale called, and she hesitantly peeked her head through the opening. “It’s alright, what do you need?”

“I’m sorry for interrupting,” Carmen stammered. “I just wanted to ask if it was ok if I left my stuff and went out to eat real quick sorry again.” The last part was said without taking a breath, and it looked as if her feet wanted to run of their own accord. 

“Don’t apologize, you’re totally fine-”

“It’s not like this is our only time to sno-”

“ _Crowley_ ,” Aziraphale admonished, Carmen’s eyes widening in the background. “Anyway, yes, go eat food, your things are safe here.”

“ThankyouMr.Fell.” She was practically out the door before her words could fully hit Aziraphale’s eardrum, and he turned to Crowley, who was grinning. 

“Was that _really_ necessary, Crowley?”

“What can I say? I’m not the angel I once was.” Aziraphale snorted and picked up a throw pillow, lightly smacking Crowley in the chest with it. Crowley’s eyes narrowed, but he was still smiling when he grabbed his own pillow and started fighting with Aziraphale. 

They danced around the room, whapping each other with pillows (and miraculously missing the objects scattered about) and cackling, fighting the only war between Heaven and Hell that would be happening anytime soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, got some fun stuff in the tank!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please feel free to talk to me over on tumblr @one-true-houselight! Prompts, ideas, questions, etc. Please leave kudos and/or a comment if you are so inclined.


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